It started with the damnable Jenkins last morn. While he made it to his post and began to prepare his equipment for the day’s watch, he soon complained of illness. After the watch commander bright this to my attention, I quickly made the walk to the wall to ascertain if this was a natural malady or some foul sending by the basics of this heathen land.
Upon inspection, I felt comfortable prescribing bed rest which was a great comfort to all involved after the purification burnings we we’re required to do last week. It’s not that my command is loath to preform their religious obligations, but the smell. Without meat being available this terrible season, even diseased meat cooking over a bonfire begins to smell delicious.
The day continued as such, one person after another coming down with this plague petite. Finally, after an entire day off chasing one pie soul after another and trying to find coverage for the gaps on the wall, I came home.
Little did I know that my own hearth works bring no respite. My fair bride, within minutes of my entry to our home, went from her usual self to agonized wimperings.
Peter's stuff.